Shards of Light
by Calico45
Summary: A series of one shots set in the world of One Difference and Not Over Yet. These are my ideas that I could not fit into these two stories and can happen from anytime before the two stories to after them and everywhere in between.
1. Chapter 1

Taxation without Representation

One Shot 1

It had all started out as a simple visit. Arthur had become quite the common visitor in the time after Jackson's reveal and would often appear just to challenge the teen to a game of chess, as he had been accustomed to having a partner from their time of cohabitation. During those visits the two would chat idly and consume the tea and various other refreshments Jackson had prepared for his guest, while they proceeded with the game. Though this always took place in Alfred's home, he was actually hardly ever there for it. He was a busy man, uncommon to popular belief, and these visits were namely for Jackson anyway even if the Brit focused on Alfred once he got home. Besides, being the proud older brother he was, he would never want to interfere with his little brother making friends. These events had gotten so commonplace that both of the usually guarded individuals often let some things slip they usually did not. It would never be mentioned again outside their chess game and they knew it, which was why it was Jackson's turn to be bold one game. One would think it would be hard to judge who was winning in chess, but Jackson was most definitely winning and one more move would put Arthur in an even harder place. As he made said moved, he began to speak.

"I have always wanted to ask, but why did you just not let him have a representative in parliament?"

Now Arthur was in a bind in the game and in real life. It made him glad his tea was gone so he would not be able to embarrass himself by spewing the drink.

"W-what are you talking about, lad?" he stuttered, hoping that maybe the teen would lose his nerve.

No such luck.

"Why did you not just let him have representation in parliament? You could have very well avoided the whole war that way—and do not just say that your king did not allow it. They valued _your _opinion, too."

In total honesty, he had been asked this same question before. Twice, actually. Once by Francis, who he punched mercilessly on the spot and ignored him for a week, and the other by Matthew, who he just circumvented the subject entirely with. Both had asked during nearly modern times, so the event had been centuries ago, but he still had not answered. He honestly had always expected Alfred to be the one to ask him one day, but he supposed the boy either did not care or had his own thoughts as to why. Well, Jackson was a part of him, so he supposed it was close enough. He could not really treat him like the two other inquirers at least. Plus, the thought occurred to Arthur that Jackson may very well know the reasons Alfred had never asked. That was something _he _had always wanted to ask.

"Well, he was just a child. He had no idea what he was doing."

Jackson quirked an eyebrow at the rather relaxed dismissal.

"Then humor him. One representative could have been completely shut out by the rest of parliament, but because he was there they would have no basis to rebel. Because that person would be there they could not question parliament's, the king's, or your legitimacy. They could not have called you a tyrant."

Arthur sighed, continuing to find the chessboard much more interesting than the teen's scrutinizing gaze.

"But he still would have whined, like the child he was. You can never satisfy everybody."

Jackson went silent for a while, and Arthur became so curious as to why that he finally removed his gaze from the game pieces to see a very stoic Jackson. It admittedly unnerved Arthur a little, to see the boy so statue like.

"So, you just stopped trying?" the boy practically whispered.

Now Arthur paused, though rather tactfully, before he nodded.

"We were all very frustrated with each other." he tried to explain, "After all that had happened, my king did not want to hear any more from the colonies. All they cared about were the taxes when we were paying higher ones back home. I suppose only later did we find out how far they would go, or how much they had actually wanted all along, maybe I should say."

"You know, I think you might be right about my brother still being a child at the time—but so were you." Jackson stated, rather as-a-matter-of-factly.

Arthur could only blink in response. What was this kid thinking? He had centuries on both of them.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You were still a child yourself." he repeated, "After all, it is a part of an adult's job to sometimes humor a stubborn child. The stubborn child selfishly only cares for itself, and can do that, but the adult must also consider things such as peace and their relationship. Basically, the more mature thing you could have done other than to ignore him would have been to humor him. You still would have gotten your way in the end, but this would technically be a compromise, so he got his way as well, and that would not have mattered one bit otherwise if you had the maturity to not let things such as pride blind you."

Arthur knew by this point that Jackson was just stating his opinion, his truth, but the words hurt. He knew he had issues with pride, but so did Alfred. Though he supposed that only an adult was truly accountable for those shortcomings, as Jackson had said, so either Alfred had been an adult and his first claim was invalid or he was the issue at hand. Choices, choices.

A wry smile spread across the teen's lips, "There is a reason I believe this, so rather than debating on the unchangeable past, would you like to hear it?"

Arthur nodded softly.

"Because neither you nor Alfred are children anymore."

A pause followed his words, and Arthur was just about to say something when he finally met Jackson's gaze once more and saw the distant look in his stormy, gray eyes.

"I always had believed that he was no more an adult than I was when I was young. Sure, I had faith in him and adored him, but he was so—_relaxed_. I thought he could never take anything seriously, and he did the stupidest of things sometimes, but I suppose that somewhat had to do with all that I did not remember in my infancy. As I grew, I never once questioned that he was any more mature than I was. Even when I started to realize his intelligence and the existence of his serious side, I not once considered it. I was far too preoccupied being the stubborn child myself. Only during the war did I realize that he was more mature than me, and had been all those years. Being positive and having fun is not childishness, nor is being relaxed, being able to do that in spite of everything is maturity. He had a greater maturity and wisdom than me the entire time, which was only natural. Still, it was only after the war, when he did those things to make me a part of him again, to make me his brother again, did I realize he was an adult. He, however, had not until I pointed it out, to which he replied that the war must have done it. For a long time I never understood that, but by now I think I have a general grasp. I cannot know for certain, but I think the day that you sat there and sobbed in the mud, you became an adult, if for no other reason, because pride and selfishness were not as valuable as they once were to you."

Arthur was not really sure what to say to all of that. However, he knew he was glad that he had this conversation with Jackson, to understand the boy, and himself for that matter, better, despite all the emotions it pulled up.

"On to the game, shall we?" Jackson coaxed softly, to which Arthur nodded before carefully moving a piece.

Jackson did so as well, smiling a bit of a sad smile as he did. Neither Arthur's head nor heart were in the game anymore.

"Checkmate, it seems." Arthur mumbled, "Good game, lad."

At this, Jackson shook his head, his smile still in place, "That is not the winning move"—Arthur blinks—"this is: if you want to know what my brother thinks on all of these matters, play a game with him. He is better than me, you know, so be prepared to win if want to get anything out of him. Same with money, as you well know."

Jackson had already disappeared before Arthur could get a word out in protest. It seemed that teen's lips were sealed—and his footsteps, silent. That really had been a brilliant move.

"Hey Jackie, I'm home! Is Artie still here?"

Arthur better perfect it rather quickly for his next opponent. Rumor has it that he was pretty brilliant himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Homecoming

One Shot 2

Alfred smiled warmly at his Virginian residence. It had been a long time since he had been here, after all. He had to leave for Europe as soon as America had joined the Second World War, not very long after the first one, it seemed. He had tried to stay in isolation this time, he had truly tried, especially for Jackson, but what Japan had done could not be ignored by anyone. It really would be a day that lived on in infamy. In all honesty, he had wanted to get involved earlier, it was only the pleading of his people, president, and little brother that quelled him. Said little brother was less than pleased when had left, even with the newly formed scars on his body, which made this homecoming just as unnerving as it was desired. Of course, when had that ever stalled him before?

He primped his hair with his hand a little, Jackson had always been a stickler for appearances even if he kept his comments about others to himself, and stretched a moment before he grasped the doorknob. Fully prepared to the best of his ability for whatever was going to happen, the sheer number of these things being overwhelming, he flung the door open and stepped in with a sunlight smile. He always had loved making an entrance, even if he was usually more mindful of people. However, something was off the moment he entered the threshold. The house was clean, as always, but it seemed—empty. Even the door slamming into the wall barely provided an echo. It gave the house a lonely feeling.

His smile immediately dropped. He left his little brother in this kind of a house? Oh right, not only had he done it once, but twice. It was a sobering reminder of all the responsibilities he had, not only to his people and himself, but to the others he loved, and the world, even. No one ever said being a superpower was going to be easy, he had never expected it to be for that matter, but someone had to do it. It just so happened that the responsibility had fell on himself. He had just wanted to grow and prosper as country, and when the First World War came around he was drawn into it. Things started to change at that point, and it was starting to peak now. Sure, he was not the only superpower, Ivan was one as well. That brought up a whole new set of issues. He had thought he had gotten to know the man during the Civil War and then the First World War, but you never really know a person, do you? If anything, Ivan was the reason he _had_ to be a superpower, and the best one he could be. Since when had the Commie become more important than his baby brother?

Alfred closed the front door gently and spared a glance to the kitchen before he began to climb the staircase. It did not hurt to look for Jackson, even if he was not here. Admittedly, he was a little disappointed that Jackson had not been there to greet him, but that was the danger of surprise visits. One would think he would have been a little relieved due to his earlier preparation, but he just wanted to get it over with and see his little brother. Anything the kid could do would not be able to match the loneliness _he _had felt in Europe, or Jackson's own he expected. He paced himself as he peeked into various rooms. In this house his study was on the second floor, a place Jackson frequented for many reasons, some of the most prominent being memories. Alfred had grown up in Virginia in Arthur's house, and he had thought it fitting that Jackson would grow up in Virginia in the house he built with his own hands after the revolution. Though he doubted Jackson remembered, he had actually been present for most of the process. When Virginia had succeeded from the union, the house had become Jackson's for a time, even if he did not stay in it, preferring his homes in Georgia and Louisiana even if he spent most of his time in South Carolina. It was only after the Civil War that he built his own in Virginia, following in his older brother's footsteps. A secret shared between the two after he had was that Alfred actually owned another house in Virginia, one he never stayed in, but kept up with the maintenance. He would never tell Arthur that he had not burned it to the ground all those years ago.

Alfred had nearly run out of rooms on the second floor when he reached his own bedroom, and, even then, the only reason he had opened the door was because he was doing a thorough search. To his surprise, and, admittedly, delight, the boy was there. It brought a smile to the older brother's face to see him huddled under Alfred's own covers. A part of him was a little surprised as well. It was no secret that Jackson could be rather prideful, and he liked to hide this adorable side of him. He was such a good actor that even Alfred did not expect some of the things he did, and this was one of them. It must have been so lonely here, any comfort, even if it was just from his brother's bed, must have been welcomed. Alfred slowly sat down beside the younger's sleeping form and lightly stroked his hair.

"I am sorry I left you alone, will you ever forgive me?" he whispered.

Alfred jumped when he felt arms wrap around him and _squeeze_.

"In due time, but first you have to realize how much I missed you."

Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything Jackson was gone. Shortly after, he began to hear the familiar clanging from the kitchen he knew all too well, yet he sat there stunned silent. So it was going to be _this_, again? Alfred could not suppress the ensuing sigh, the next few weeks were going to be rough on him. Jackson had acted this exact same way after the First World War, so he knew exactly what was coming. After being tackled into a hug, the younger had then proceeded to give him the cold shoulder for weeks. It was a demonstration of sorts of what the younger had to go through when he was not there. When confronted, Jackson would speak in his polite and kind tone, but his words and actions were that of a sadistic housewife. In many respects, he could be thought of as the exact same thing, being that he took care of the home while Alfred was away and was not afraid in the least to show how displeased he was in being forced to do it alone. Vengeance of sorts, he supposed. Still, he would gladly spend the weeks groveling instead of without his brother. In Europe he had not even been able to talk about him because Jackson did not exist as far as the rest of the world was concerned. Alfred gripped his knee so hard that his knuckles turned white. He did not even know that his brother had made a tour in Europe himself until after the treaty was signed, due to all the responsibilities that had held him. The war that Jackson had been completely against, he joined, and Alfred had not even been there to see him.

After taking a moment to calm himself, Alfred found himself wandering into the kitchen. Like he had expected, Jackson was preparing a meal of sorts. The enticing aroma was already growing in considerable strength. He debated on whether or not he should just stand there and watch. He knew there was no way that Jackson would allow him to help, on anything important at least, but the two did actually cook together and it normally allowed for easy conversation. In all honesty, Alfred was not a horrible cook. He could not taste, so the seasoning was off if anything, but he could follow recipes to the letter. The problem only came in because Jackson liked spice, and adjusting flavoring was just something that Alfred could not do with math and mechanics, at least on the first try, which was why Jackson always cooked to suit his own taste. However, in the years of living together, Alfred had gotten better than even Jackson knew. More often than not, he just cooked when Jackson was sick so the kid could only sometimes taste at all himself, but whenever he was allowed to cook, he was always instructed to follow the recipe to the letter. Alfred never did that. He experimented with the spices, and whether or not Jackson knew it, Alfred could tell if he had hit the mark by Jackson's reactions. The boy had yet to suspect that Alfred was tweaking the recipes, and he was just fine with that.

"Need any help?" Alfred finally asked, leaning against the doorway.

"No."

"But you have quite a bit of work here."

"Stew is not that labor intensive."

"Everything helps."

"Then wash the dishes afterwards."

Well Alfred was getting nowhere with this, but he was not about to give up. He eyed the room quickly and caught sight of something that made him smile. In moments he was peeling potatoes and preparing the other vegetables. Alfred knew that Jackson had not even spared him a glance as the sounds of a knife hitting the cutting board filled the room, but he stayed diligent with his task. It was only after he was nearly done and an excessive sigh was heard that he got his reward.

"What is it that you actually want?"

The words were rather harsh, but his tone truly softened and showed exhaustion.

"To spend time with my baby brother, what else?" Alfred stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

Suddenly he could feel Jackson's eyes burning holes into the back of his neck.

"Maybe, but you have held something on that tongue of yours the entire time. I can read you better than anyone else, remember?"

Alfred nodded, finally stopping his slicing and turning around to face his brother head on. Said man was leaning against a counter himself with his arms crossed, taking in Alfred's form with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Would you like to come to a world meeting with me?"

The question surprised even Alfred. He had meant to be far more tactful in his approach to that ultimate goal. Introducing him to Matthew was probably the best first step. He observed Jackson and immediately realized that the younger had went rigid.

"No."

It was a clipped answer in a weak tone, but Alfred could recognize its finality very clearly.

"Jackie, the rest of the world is not that bad—"

"I said no."

His tone was stronger this time, with a hint of warning.

"But I want to be able to see you more!" Alfred cried, forgetting tact altogether, "I can't shut out the globe anymore. I am a superpower in a world with two totally opposite ideologies. It is the east versus the west, Jackie, and I can no more ignore it than you."

Jackson looked a little taken aback.

"I do not like leaving you like this. Surely you at least believe that. So, meet the other countries, Mattie at least. I mean, we have a common unguarded border after all. You can move up to Europe later. They may be crazy, but that does not mean bad."

Jackson snorted, "Like I want to meet anyone of the people that could not solve their problems with one world war. They really ought to get a hobby."

Alfred smiled, "Hey, we are trying to fix that with things like the United Nations and these meetings."

Jackson abruptly became very serious, "You are not joining anything like that, are you? International institutions are not to be trusted."

Alfred waved him off, "Calm down. Of course I am advocating this kind of thing for the Europeans because they need something to unite them. We both know how confederations are, so let's not even go there. This kind of thing is not for either of us. But really, will you at least meet Mattie?"

Jackson actually paused, and Alfred found himself believing that he had actually won this war after all the years of fighting it. He was sorely mistaken.

"No."

Jackson finally turned back around and busied himself once more with the stew while Alfred stood flabbergasted. After _everything_ he still—

"Is there _anyone_ that you would be willing to meet?"

Alfred had meant that to be sarcastic, but Jackson actually paused again and started to think.

"The Netherlands, maybe."

Alfred blinked.

"You mean Ned?"

Jackson connected gazes with him and nodded, before turning back around and started cooking. Well that was unexpected. Sure, Ned was a great guy, but Alfred never knew that Jackson would be willing to meet him! Admittedly, he was a little odd, but so were all of the countries. He still called Alfred "New Amsterdam," even. Over the years he had just grown to accept it, especially since he had given him money during the Revolutionary War and had always been kind to him. In fact, whenever he did give him money, which he still did on occasion, he would always take a moment to pat his head and say "good boy." It made him feel like a dog, but it was just something the man had always done, and he usually made it a point to visit Ned whenever he could.

"That is great, Jackie, but I have to ask: why Ned?"

"Since when have we ever had a problem with the Netherlands?" Jackson asked.

He had Alfred there.

"So if I invite him over you will stay here to meet him?"

"No."

Alfred sighed, finally returning his attention to his previous task. It was going to be a long few weeks, indeed. Only once he was focused on chopping vegetables again did Jackson allow himself to smile.

"Keep fighting." he murmured, making sure not a single sound was audible.

These weeks were going to be just as long for him, so Alfred had better keep trying. Of course, Jackson had nothing to worry about, and he knew it to. Alfred always kept trying. Jackson was really glad he was finally home.


	3. Chapter 3

A Selfish Promise

One Shot 3

"Why do I have to go, again?"

A smile tugged on the corners of Alfred's lips as he tilted his head down to get a better look at the speaker, a small blond child with piercing gray eyes.

"Because it is lonely all by yourself." he repeated for probably the fiftieth time.

Fifty second, now that he thought about it.

"But I will be fine! I won't be lonely because I have the animals, and, besides, I do not like people." the child rebutted, holding his older brother's gaze firmly.

It was supposed to be a test of wills of sorts, the staring contest. However, it is was hardly fair to the older brother that had the cantering horse the pair were on to maneuver, and he broke the connection before too long. The child seemed to realize the hollowness of the victory and his mood did not lighten.

Alfred sighed, "I know, I know, Jackie, but you need to know these people. One day you are going to have to go to D.C. just as much as me."

"Then why can't I enjoy this now?" the child persisted.

Alfred shook his head, looking anywhere but the boy's eyes. By now Jackson had slipped from any resemblance of whining and pouting to a genuine questioning, something that tended to put Alfred in a bind. Some things were just hard to explain, especially to a child. It made him wonder if he had been so demanding, which led to a whole other world of complications.

"It is better to get used to it." the older said more to himself, "And even if you will not get lonely, what about me?"

"Liar."

Alfred almost fell off the horse.

"What did you say!?"

The two's eyes met and Alfred saw a familiar defiance burning bright in the stormy gray.

"There is no way you get lonely. You are always laughing and smiling with them, those politicians or merchants or drunkards. You get along with everyone. How could you be lonely?" the boy explained, holding his steeling gaze the entire time.

Alfred was speechless for more than a moment as the child's words sunk in. What was he really supposed to say, to someone so young, nonetheless? Sure, he got along with everyone, and it must have looked like a whole other world to the shy child, but there was more going on behind the scenes than he realized. There always was, but how do you explain that? Alfred had been unable to look away from Jackson the entire time the thoughts raced through his head, but he quickly realized that he was seeing something else entirely: a mirror image of himself at that age. He would have wanted an explanation.

"This may not make sense just yet," he began, pausing a moment to align his words, "but I still get lonely. Everybody does. Even if they are with other people. I mean, you get lonely when I am not around in D.C., even with everybody else still there."

"No I don't." Jackson immediately countered, "I am just uncomfortable with them."

"But you get lonely when I leave for whatever reason." Alfred pushed.

"No I don't."

Alfred could not suppress the sigh that passed through his lips. He was not supposed to sigh like this, he was way too young. Still, Jackson was the one thing that could make him feel old. Raising a child was really difficult at times, and now that he thought about it, he never actually left Jackson alone if he could help it and for very long either.

"Why?"

Now it was Jackson's turn to be jarred.

"Why do you not get lonely in that big house, all by yourself?" the older asked, just as genuinely as the child had earlier.

"Because you always come back."

Jackson let the words ripple off his tongue as if they had been the most obvious thing in the world, and Alfred could not help but smile. He did not come back, he never really left in the first place. He always stayed close, even if he was out of sight.

"I guess I did my job." he muttered under his breath, before regaining the child's attention with new enthusiasm, "I am jealous of you, Jackie. I used to get really lonely whenever I was left alone."

"You were alone?" the child questioned, in utter disbelief, to Alfred's amusement.

"Yep. Unlike you, I did not have someone I knew would come back."

Silence, except for the hoof beats, engulfed the two. Jackson was not a particularly talkative child, but Alfred could recognize when something was wrong with him. Nevertheless, he let the child work out his thoughts in peace and quiet.

"Did he ever come back?"

Alfred smirked, knowing that something like this was coming. It always did when the child paused in thought.

"Yes, he did, but he will never come back again. I know that now."

For the first time that whole trip, Alfred began to feel his brother shifting about in the saddle. Strangely enough, he seemed to get closer to him, when the child had always liked his space.

"You must be lonely then." the child concluded, squeezing some of the fabric of Alfred's clothing tightly.

Alfred sighed deeply, exhaling through his nose, "No, I'm not. I promised myself a long time ago, before he came back, that I was never going to be alone again."—his eyes, smiling, drifted down to Jackson—"And you may not remember, but I made that same selfish promise with you when I found you. I will never leave you alone or let you be lonely, Jackie."

The child's jaw dropped slightly, as he continued to stare up at his older brother. Alfred had since turned his attention back to the dirt road and navigating the terrain. His grip on the elder's shirt tightened as a small smile found its way onto the child's lips.

"Then let me be selfish, too. I promise I will never let you be lonely again, either."

Alfred smiled fondly, but still did not look at the child. He could tell the younger was getting drowsy.

"To D.C. then?" he asked with a bit of a laugh, not expecting to be answered.

"And everywhere else. I never want to feel like you are not going to come back."

In moments, Alfred realized the tension previously in the little body disappeared and then he knew Jackson had fallen asleep. It had been a long ride, and they still had a while to go before they would make it to D.C. just yet, but they would be there by nightfall. It only made since that it wore the child out, as energetic and he could be.

"Not if I can help it." he whispered, letting go of the reins with one hand to hold Jackson, "I'll fight to the end, for you, myself, Madison, and every one of our people. I will not lose the second war for our independence, to make sure he never comes back."


	4. Chapter 4

Apollo and Artemis

One Shot 4

Alfred F. Jones was a dead man. There was no question about that. The only question was how Alfred F. Jones would die, according to his little brother, Jackson. Violent and painfully were all the concrete details he knew for sure. The rest was currently up to his imagination's whimsy, which turned out to have a surprisingly sadistic side. Yes, not only was Alfred F. Jones a dead man, but he was about to meet the Southern devil in person. That man really should have known better than to cross the Confederate States of America a second time.

It all began July 16th, 1969, with the launch of Apollo 11. Space had been an interest in common with both of the American brothers, a certain Russian as well even if that was a whole other story, but Jackson had never been a fan of travelling and that certainly did not change for space travel. Alfred did not share the same sentiment at least, even in the face of earlier failures in the space crafts. The American nation was never even supposed to be allowed near the rocket in the first place, but his persistence and a bit of manipulation went a long way: he got his seat on the flight. Jackson had been opposed from the beginning, but could easily recognize the futility of any words of persuasion, so he stayed quiet. He did not utter a single word from the day his brother finally got confirmation of his flight on, not even moments before his brother's launch. What did it matter when the fool was going to die or worse anyway?

July 20th brought news of exactly what Jackson was expecting: worse, Alfred made it to the moon. As much as Jackson had tried to appear apathetic, even continuing his vow of silence, he stayed very in tune to the communications from the space craft. He even spent most of his time haunting the Kennedy Space Center. His boss had been kind enough to give him a leave of absence for the extended period Alfred was away, leaving him without much else to do. It was during one of those habitual hauntings of the center that the news leaked and he almost broke his silence, especially as his brother's joyful voice crackled into his ears. If he made it this time there was no doubt he was going to try and do it again. This was definitely worse.

Even with all the accumulated dread and anxiety already gathered, it was not until July 24th, the day of Apollo 11's return to Earth, did Jackson reach his breaking point. He disappeared: Alfred F. Jones was not with the remnants of the space craft that landed in Pacific Ocean. None of the crew members could account for him, nor were there any signs of him in the surrounding area, land or sea. He was just gone. That was the reason why he was a dead man, because if the landing had not killed him, Jackson surely was. He risked his life, all those of his citizens, and probably Jackson's, too, for his little joy ride on that rocket, and judging by the less than pristine state of the retrieved crew, even if the nation was alive he was probably in the hands of the Soviets whether he realized it or not. In all actuality, he was better off with the commie. Ivan was far more merciful than Jackson was feeling at the moment.

It was some time later after the crew's recovery that Jackson paced alone in the Virginian home that he was supposed to share with his brother. He was not even bothering to keep up with the time as his mind ran through all the pressing matters over and over again. Alfred was gone, which meant he was the new personification until he came back. But Alfred was dead, or close to it, which could possibly mean that he would disappear as well and America the entity would descend into anarchy. No country had ever lost its personification before, not that anyone knew at least, without the entirety of the country dying with it. Then again, killing him would be worth it if he had a chance, but the job was probably already done. Regardless, it was imperative that the rest of the globe did not know that the personification of America was missing. Chances were that if Alfred was gone for good, Jackson would just have to assume his identity for the world meetings as not to cause a stir. The two brothers looked enough alike and Jackson's acting skills were impeccable. The globe would never know, Alfred F. Jones's death going down as another buried American secret, and all for the better. Oh, how little it took to send the rest of the world into a frenzy—

"You hear me yet or—OW!"

Jackson blinked, stupefied at his own bodies' natural reflexes. If he could flip a man by his arm without a thought, then why did he not even hear him come in? No, not man—Nation. An American nation to be precise. Jackson's eyes narrowed to the point that his pupils practically turned into slits as his grip tightened inhumanly so on the flipped man's captive wrist. Well look at what the cat dragged in.

"I know you're mad—Gah!—but listen, that hurts, Jackie."

Jackson's lips curled into a cold grin as Alfred's wrist continued to crackle and pop, "That is the point, but do not worry if you have not learned that yet, you will."

A brief flash of fear passed over Alfred's features before a calm acceptance took its place—even as Jackson's grip got ever tighter. It was that change that brought Jackson back to reality and he released Alfred's wrist, knowing now that the elder would not run at least. Of course, Jackson had one of those feelings that would be the least of his problems at the moment.

"You have every right to be mad." Alfred began, pulling himself to his feet and allowing Jackson to see that one arm was hidden completely inside his bomber jacket, but not in the sleeve, "But at least kill me when we are alone."

Jackson's piercing eyes followed the bulge in Alfred's thick coat where his arm had to be throughout the elder's incoherent words, and slowly the younger's mind began to turn in reverse. Alfred had said something the moment he got home. Jackson knew he did, even if he had been so engrossed in thought not to hear it. No, he heard it, on second thought. He simply had not processed it. So the tape in his mind rewound and played it back, over and over again, with each replay gaining a little clarity.

"Congratulations, it's a—"

"Girl."

Jackson stared wide-eyed and jaw to the floor as Alfred cut him off, both verbally and physically by removing his jacket away from the bulge. Cradled against his chest was probably the smallest child Jackson had seen up close. Her hair was as black as the night sky and her skin as pale as the moon. It gave Jackson chills while Alfred was grinning like an idiot, his bright smile about to split his face.

"She's the moon you know." he explained, "I saw her birth myself, and I have to tell you—it was amazing. That is why she is so small. I do not think any other country has been found so young. Isn't it great? We have a little sister now! It is a little ironic really, that the ship was named Apollo. In Greek mythology Apollo, the sun god, was the twin brother of Artemis, the moon goddess. Everything fits so perfectly when you think about it."

With a little doing Jackson finally managed to reel his jaw back in while he tried to absorb all the new information his eyes and ears were getting, but his brain was pretty much fried at that point. Alfred, noticing this, rolled his azure eyes with a fond smile before approaching his brother—and proceeding to push the child into his arms. Jackson yelped, scrambling to get a proper hold on the infant while Alfred just laughed.

"What are you thinking!? I don't know how to take care of a ch-child!" the younger hissed, still struggling a bit and praying to every deity out there that he would not rouse the poor thing from its sleep.

"Calm down. You will learn, I did. Besides, this is exciting. How often does a new nation come into the world?" Alfred insisted, still smiling.

"If you take her I will not ask where on earth you have been all this time." Jackson promised, panic still evident in his voice, "How is that, hm?"

Alfred finally conceded and relieved his brother of the small charge. As soon as she was safely in Alfred's arms, Jackson's tension melted away. It finally let him examine the situation a little more rationally, and he had to admit, Alfred was right about this being exciting. However, there was something still bothering Jackson.

"What did you name her? I did not catch that."

Alfred paused at this, looking down at the child and then back to Jackson before shrugging, "I was actually going to ask you for help with that."

Jackson practically smacked his forehead with a groan, but controlled himself, fearing what may happen if he took his eyes off his brother again.

"Any thoughts, then?" the younger probed, "You do know her personality better."

Once more Alfred shrugged, "Sure, but I figured we could each pick a name. You can pick the first, me the middle, and naturally her last name will be Jones."

Jackson pondered this a moment before shaking his head, "No, you pick the first name."

Alfred nodded with a smile, "Fine, but you have to pick the middle name then. Mm… How about Nikkita? It means unconquered or unconquerable."

"Perfect for a little moon goddess—or revolutionary." Jackson commented, looking the child's features over in an attempt to match a suitable name, "Diamond."

"Diamond?" Alfred parroted, watching Jackson nod in response.

"To remind her how precious she is."

Alfred's smile grew in wattage, "Nikkita D. Jones it is!"

With the relatively calm turn in the conversation, both Alfred and Jackson began to feel the fatigue that had built up in their bodies for days. They did not even have to say anything to each other to recognize the other's condition. Alfred would have to die another day. Without any further communication the three found themselves on Alfred's bed, Nikkita sleeping peacefully between the two brothers. As sleep began to overtake the older two, Jackson spared a thought to what Alfred had said earlier. The sun and the moon were brother and sister, but they were also polar opposites, were they not? The same could be said of Artemis and Apollo. That meant the future was going to be anything but easy, but it never was, it seemed. Jackson shifted to his side that allowed him to face the child and he stretched out a hand, though shakily, to touch her. As soon as his fingers reached her warm, soft skin all his apprehension dissolved.

"Now I know I have no clue what kind of big brother I will be," he whispered to the child, "but I will be the very best I can for you. I would not be representing mine—ours very well if I did not, now would I? He may do a bunch of stupid things that I will be sure to steer you away from, but the things he does right make him the best in the world. So, I will start with the first thing he ever did right. Nikkita, I promise you that I will never leave you alone or let you be lonely, first and foremost, but I will also turn you into a Southern belle if it is the last thing I do. Manners are essential no matter what anyone else believes."

Little did Jackson know that the blond American that was supposed to be fast asleep was listening attentively, even as Jackson's words turned to snores.

"You'll make a great big brother, Jackie. Better than me, I know. I hate that I do not have all the time in the world to spend with you two like I used to. I feel like I have not been able to keep my promises to both of you, but maybe you both can keep them for me. You'll be closer than the twins Artemis and Apollo, and probably more powerful, too. I cannot wait to see what you guys become when you grow up."


	5. Chapter 5

Nation or State?

One Shot 5

"What are we?"

The very words shattered any sort of customary greeting that usually rolled off Alfred's tongue the moment he got home, stunning him before he could even shut the door. Then there was the fact that Jackson had obviously been waiting for him by the front door to add to the strangeness of the matter. Alfred's eyebrows furrowed as he began to realize that his little brother had bags under his eyes and looked all around disheveled, which was certainly new. Rough day babysitting Nikkita, he guessed. Alfred knew the trials of being an older brother well, but the question still threw him off. He had this conversation three times before in his life: once with Arthur when he was the one that asked, then with Jackson, who had been the asker that round, and finally Nikkita when she became curious of her origins. He had not expected a fourth conversation on the topic, much less the question that always started it all.

"Did you fall and hit your head? We're nations." Alfred chuckled, recovering from the shock and finally closing the door.

"Really?"

Now Alfred's chuckle turned uneasy.

"Well, yeah. We aren't aliens like Tony, so what else could we be?"

Jackson rolled his eyes at the mention of their gray friend, currently visiting his family at the time, "I guess I should have known to be more specific: are we nations or states?"

Alfred's eyes widened as the realization set in that Jackson was not talking about the regular American states.

"Both?"

It sounded more like a question, but he had been blindsided. Since when did Jackson care what political scientists called them? It was a relatively new field anyway.

"So, nation-states?"

"Sure."

Jackson's eyes narrowed dangerously, "I have been up a good thirty eight hours trying to figure this out, so it is in your best interest to take it seriously."

Well that explained his appearance, but not so much why Alfred had not caught on before this point. However, that was a battle for another day.

"Well I was not expecting a pop quiz when I walked in the door. Why does it even matter?"

Jackson sighed, "Because Nikki asked me this yesterday and when I realized I had no clue what to tell her it was one of the worst feelings in the world."

Alfred smiled apologetically, knowing exactly the feeling Jackson spoke of. Even if he knew people were not perfect, much less himself, it still hurt all the more when he felt he had let his little brother see his imperfections early on. It was simply a part of life, no matter how either of them cared for it. Besides, Alfred had learned that showing his imperfections was not the worst thing in the world, since knowing that one's imperfections and all were accepted was one of the best feelings in the world.

"And you should be expecting pop quizzes." Jackson continued, "Since we never know when our professors will give them."

Now that caused a frown to form on Alfred's features. The last thing he wanted to hear about was class, and the associated homework, when he had just gotten home from work. Both he and Jackson, on top of holding down a full time job with hours admittedly somewhere in between flexible and rigid, also attended various universities. With the rate that human knowledge was advancing, the last thing they could afford to do was to fall behind. Besides, it was not like they wanted to be confined to relationships with politicians and maybe a few lucky neighbors. This option opened up opportunities to connect with not only academics, but the rising youth as well. On occasion the two had even met future presidents in the process. Regardless of it all, the two were still regular, overworked college students in the end and remembering that did not always bring about the best feelings. Class really was just about the last thing that Alfred wanted to think about.

"Alright, alright. I get it. How did she come up with a question like that anyway?" Alfred conceded, finally pushing the conversation away from the front door and into the living room.

Jackson answered just as Alfred plopped onto the couch, "I think she got ahold of one of my textbooks, so anything not up to par will not suffice."

Alfred sighed himself as Jackson took the seat beside him. So it was going to be _this_ difficult? Things involving Nikkita tended to be. She had a knack for jarring questions, just as Jackson, but hers spread into the field of scientific insight instead of just the usual emotional.

"Did we ever figure out the last question?" Alfred queried, studying the ceiling as if it held the answer in cryptic lettering.

"We tried, and guessed in the end." Jackson admitted, with the same pain of having his teeth pulled, "Did you have an epiphany on whether or not there were some deep sea plants at the bottom of trenches that contained chlorophyll or are we still sticking with no, they all rely on chemosynthesis because sunlight does not reach the sea floor?"

"And how long did it take to exhaust our sources and eventually guess?"

"I was delusional enough by the end that I haven't the slightest clue."

"Me either." Alfred confessed, "So let's get this over with before that happens again."

"Agreed. We were on nation-states, but according to the textbook Nikki got ahold of there are also state-nations, part nation-states, and multinational states. Remember those?"

Alfred nodded, "Nation-states started with the nation first and then got a territory. The state-nations had the territory first and developed a nation from that. The part nation-states are a single nation split into two states, usually with different political and economic systems. Then multinational states have a bunch of nations within its borders."

"From that description, France would be a nation-state, you would be a state-nation, the two Koreas would be part nation-states, and Canada would be a multinational state. However, that is problematic because it raises some other questions." added Jackson.

"Yeah, if we just accepted that, France is a nation, I am a state, the Koreas are nations, and Canada is a state. You would be a nation, too, now that I think about it. It does not make sense if we are not the same thing."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"Fine then, but I do not see much of an answer other than that we are different. I mean, you were born with the territory, right? Or were you the nation of the natives? If we can figure that out Canada is taken care of, but Russia is another one of those multinational countries. Are you really willing to bet on whether he was a nation or a state?"

Alfred began to run his hands through his hair. This debate was frustrating. The personifications simply had to be the same thing. If not, then it would cause so many problems it would not be funny. However, Jackson had some points. He had certainly not looked representative of his natives in his youth and for a large part of his childhood they were his only people. The colonists were Englishmen then, not Americans. They became his as he grew, as he became a nation. So was he originally a state, and, if so, was he then the personification of the state and not the nation? If that was true, what about Jackson? Sure, he somewhat had his own territory, but he was born as a nation, a set of people different from the north and he later carved out a territory even if Alfred technically took it back. Did that make Alfred the state and Jackson the nation in state-nation? The one thing Alfred was sure of is that he would never leave any unattended textbooks out again, and he hoped Jackson felt the same.

_Grrrrrr_!

Both Alfred and Jackson jumped at the noise, but immediately felt foolish when their eyes settled on a very small girl. She hung in the living room's doorframe looking at the two quite expectantly. For a moment they had not the slightest idea why, but it hit them both like a pile of bricks the moment the frustrating topic released their brains. It was late, dark in fact, and they had been so consumed with their conversation that they had not spared a thought to what would have been the usual routine of fixing the evening meal. The two were quite sure that Nikkita had been far too patient with them, if anything, judging by the fact that Nikkita's growling stomach was only the beginning of the chorus of growls they all shared.

"Sorry Nikki." Jackson immediately apologized, darting for the kitchen, "Just give me a moment."

Alfred merely laughed and led the child into the kitchen after Jackson, "Yeah, you really should have got us earlier."

The child tilted her head at this, watching closely as Alfred took a seat at the kitchen table and motioned for her to do the same, "But you were busy. What were you even talking about?"

Alfred did not even have to turn his head to know Jackson had gone rigid in his kitchen preparations.

"You know that question you asked Jackie? Well, we were trying to answer it." Alfred explained, gauging the child's reaction.

Said child seemed to be torn between confusion and amusement, but eager nevertheless, "And did you find an answer?"

Alfred was not sure how much he liked her reaction, but he could not find it within himself to dodge the question, "Yeah, but it might not be exactly the answer you were looking for. I think we are nations because of our people. We take the shape of humans, so why wouldn't we represent them? This form also allows us to connect with them like no other. I am not saying our territories are not a part of us, I do not ever remember a nation ever really picking up and moving, but that is because the land is a part of our people, too. Even when the land comes first, the people are what make the land into whatever it will be, whatever we will be. So, we are all nations, first and foremost."

Alfred felt pretty proud of himself for coming up with that. This pride grew as it became clear that Jackson not only did not have anything to add, but his tension was almost completely dissolved. Even Nikkita seemed to simply be soaking in the words. Maybe this had not been so bad after all.

Alfred turned around with one of his Hollywood smiles in place, "What are we having for dinner, Jackie—"

"Big brother Alfie."

Before Alfred could even turn his head back around, she spoke.

"So what does that mean about me, since I do not have any people?"

The sound of Jackson dropping all of his kitchen utensils never fit how Alfred felt inside so closely until that moment, the moment when Alfred's unconditional support for the electronic information flow and all its mediums was born. Sadly, neither Google, Wikipedia, nor anything else has ever helped him reign Nikkita in, which has also supported his respect for books over the years. They are quite fearsome weapons in the hands of a curious, unconquerable little girl.


End file.
